Berserker Blood
by HeathenVampires
Summary: Dagur thought he had found something in her. Heather proved to be his biggest challenge and his greatest motivation. Dagur/Heather three-shot (warning for incest)
1. Chapter 1

**I would say hey look more incest, but are any of you really surprised anymore?**

 **I got quite a few prompts for these two and it made me happy, because finally there's more variation in the couples I get asked for (I think I've had a request for almost every single pairing possible at this point).**

 **So... this will be a threeshot, each 'shot' taking part at a different point in these two's timeline. Starting with...**

 **when Heather was undercover on Ryker's ship. Still evil Dagur. Some character inflection as he adjusts to having someone to care about. Probably slightly off storyline because... I haven't rewatched RTTE for a week or so.**

 **Sibling-y incest warnings... but you probably got that.**

-HTTYD-

He tried to excuse it at first.

Watching Heather was for her protection.

She was the only girl on board the ship, and with the questionable ethics of many of the man aboard, Dagur knew the thoughts they had about her even without overhearing them. Heather could take care of herself - she _was_ a Berserker - but for the first time in years, Dagur had something, someone that was _his_ and his alone. His connection to Heather had stolen her away from those pesky dragon riders, and the fact she flew her own dragon helped ensure they could win fights against Hiccup and his do-gooder cronies.

Dagur felt his hands curl into fists at the mere thought of Hiccup. Hiccup who he wanted to beat and bite and maybe take off his skinny leggings and-

"Dagur!"

Snapped out of his reverie, Dagur turned around to see Ryker. He knew Ryker wanted to do things to Heather that would easily win him a death sentence, but he valued having a dragon flier on their side too much, and he was just scared enough of Dagur not to risk it. For now.

"What do you want Ryker? I was dreaming of brutal, bloody revenge!"

"Aren't ye always? Get your gear, we're docking soon to hunt some Nadders."

"Oooh Nadders! Poison spikes and constant preening themselves."

"Aye. They remind me of you in that way. Breakable too."

Dagur growled, anger flaring immediately.

"You wanna talk breakable Rykie? How about I break your _skull_ and wear it as a codpiece?"

Heather scoffed behind them, axe slung over her back and Wind... something at her side.

"Get a room! Can we go?"

Ryker sneered, picked up his cruel looking weapon and tossed a sword at Dagur - blade first, just to test his reflexes.

"Almost got me Rykie, but not quick enough! Let's go get us some dragon guts! Heather! My dear sister, stay close now."

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't stray far all the same. Some of the others could be heard muttering about how they wanted to tear off Heather's skirt and by that point Dagur had a blade to their throats.

"Any of you so much as **touch** _my sister_ and you will find out just how **slow** a death it is to be ingested by a Slitherwing dragon. _Do I make myself clear?_ "

They squealed like stuck yaks, moving away from Dagur. He wasn't called 'the deranged' for nothing.

"I don't need you defending me Dagur."

"We're family sis, it's what I do."

No matter how much she insisted she was capable of taking care of herself, even his amazing sister was fallible sometimes. Knowing Heather was such a light sleeper, Dagur was convinced the trapper he stabbed to death had drugged her drink with the express intent of sneaking into her room. Her dragons loud cries as he walked back from the outhouse had been all that alerted Dagur, finding the bastard with his pathetic little cock out even as he tried to say it wasn't what it looked like.

"H-hey! Why don't you go first?"

Dagur halted with his dagger at the mans throat.

" _Excuse_ me?"

"Y'know. You have her first. C'mon, you might be her brother but surely even you know there's not enough girls about and she's easy on the eye."

Dagur cut his throat, then jammed his blade all the way to the hilt through his heart, dragging the body out to the deck and yelling loudly.

" _This_ is what happens if you go near my sister. Let this be a lesson."

If anyone was in any doubt, Dagur had left his clothes pulled away so he was humiliatingly exposed as well as dead. Once he saw Ryker and a few other men had seen the body, Dagur turned back and went to Heather's room. The Razorwhip eyed him beadily with her muzzle and tail clamp on - the only way Ryker let Heather keep the dragon out of a cage at night - but Dagur simply pulled out another blade and sat at the foot of Heather's bed. She hadn't moved, had no idea what had happened yet.

Dagur reached out a hand and placed it on her leg, the warmth even through her clothes reassuring that accursed _concern_ that showed up occasionally in his gut.

"I'm gonna protect you Heather. You're my sister."

He shuffled up to keep his back against the wall, eyes on the door and knife in his hand. Dagur was going to have to keep watch over her, lest any other idiots try to take advantage of Heather. He would be there to kill them too. He didn't realise he had fallen asleep there until he was jerked awake by Heather with her axe against his chest plate.

"What are you doing in here?"

He held up his hands, having placed his knife down to try and assauge Heather's concerns.

"Let me explain!"

Dagur couldn't help but be impressed by her reaction time - Heather's eyes were barely even open, hair mussed and features soft with sleep.

"Explain."

"Notice how late you slept?"

Heather looked at the porthole, seeing that the sun was higher in the sky than usual for her.

"What happened?"

"One of the crew must have put something in your food or drink, your lizard was making a lot of noise so I came in and found one about to do you while you were unconcious. So I killed him, dumped him on the deck and came back here to make sure you were ok."

Heather's eyes widened, her axe lowering so she could pat herself down, finding all her clothes in place and the relief in her face was palpable.

"You _killed_ him?"

Dagur nodded.

"They've probably tossed his corpse overboard but we could go find out-"

"N-no, that's fine. You just saved me the trouble."

Ah, there was the Berserker in her.

"That's my sister. I'll uh, leave you to get dressed."

Now she was awake and un-dosed and capable of slaughtering anyone who got too close, Dagur had no cause to stay in her bedroom.

He wasn't sure why that thought disappointed him.

Many of the others on board all avoided Dagur's eye, Ryker about the only one brave enough to come near him.

"Think ye scared them witless. Shoulda had you killing men randomly since you got here."

"Well, I have to protect my sister. Family man, gotta protect it."

Ryker crossed his beefy arms (he was broader but not as properly muscular as Dagur, he reassured himself) and nodded.

"Aye."

A man of few words.

Heather and her dragon came up on the deck, pointed looks at Ryker meaning the Razorwhip had her restraints off and she stretched, flicking her tail and making a happy roar. Heather smiled fondly at the creature, rubbing a hand in just the right way to not have her palms sliced to bits by the sharp scales. Dagur found himself momentarily transfixed by that expression - Berserkers didn't really smile.

Oh, they smirked and sneered and even occasionally had a maniacal grin that threatened imminent harm.

But a proper, genuine _smile?_

Almost unheard of. And that was including the years under Osvald the Agreeable.

"There we go Windshear" he needed to remember that name sometime "just let me get some water and then we'll stretch your wings."

"I didn't say ye could fly the beast yet."

Heather rolled her eyes; she had little patience for Ryker trying to boss her around.

"Quiet Ryker. You want us to match Hiccup and his riders, me and Windshear have to stay sharp. That includes morning training, because that's Astrid's favourite time to train."

"Of course _you_ would know that."

Heather squared up and Dagur bristled, ready to jump in.

"What do you mean by that Ryker?"

Ryker snorted, huffed and turned off. Heather scowled at his back, helped herself to some water and a grilled fish, then cast one glance at Dagur before climbing up on her dragon saddle.

"Let's go Windshear."

They took off for a morning flight, leaving Dagur momentarily missing his Skrill. Not that one could easily ride a Skrill, which had always been a problem for him only tempered by how much of a powerful, glorious beast Skrilly was. They docked up at one of the bases for a couple of days to sort which dragons were alive enough to sell, and which the men could play with and kill for sport since they were too weak to survive. Then they would be skinned and the parts sold instead. Dagur didn't tend to join in - they only fought the sick and weak ones, which took out all the sport.

And a _tiny_ part of him, almost invisible it was so minute, knew Heather had mixed feelings about actually _killing_ dragons. It made some sense; Dagur would skin Ryker for suggesting skinning Skrilly. She was never around for the sport killings. Adamantly refused to assist with the skinning. If she weren't Dagur's sister and their only flyer, Ryker would probably have tired of her and gotten rid of her long ago.

"Hey sis."

Heather looked up from her journal, mostly where she jotted down what dragons they had captured that week. Half the crew couldn't read or write much, so at least someone was keeping records other than Ryker.

"What's up Dagur?"

"Brought you food. You didn't eat much at breakfast."

She blinked in surprise, but took the cloth with a mutton thigh and a couple of burly cakes wrapped inside from Dagur.

"Oh. Thanks."

Dagur sat down next to her, watching her dragon groom herself in a rare spot free of other dragons or humans. Dagur could only sit in silence with Heather; everyone else made him paranoid. Heather was family. He felt less worried she was plotting his death than anyone else. They shared _blood,_ for Thor's sake. Heather sat quietly eating, tucking her book back under her chest plate to ensure she didn't misplace it.

He didn't discuss it with Heather, but Dagur took up vigil outside her door that night. He wouldn't put it past one of the morons around them to try it on themselves under the assumption Dagur's guard was back down.

His guard was _never_ down.

He only woke up when Heather kicked him, stumbling across where his body had slumped across her door.

"What now?"

Dagur curled up, grumbling.

"Protecting you. Five more minutes."

She kicked him again.

"Get up. Windshear can't get out."

Dagur grumbled some more but got up, rubbing his eyes and scratching at his scruffy stubble. Heather and her dragon left for breakfast, but Heather actually came and sat next to Dagur with her food when he made it to the designated breakfast spot. He wondered who did the cooking...

Heather didn't say anything, but she sat with him. Then she flew off, scanning the island for what species might have migrated since their last trip to the base. She sat with him at dinner too, still in silence but it said something that she and the dragon were voluntarily in his space at the vulnerable point of eating.

He went to back to sit outside her room that night. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but Dagur refused to let any of these trappers hurt Heather. Berserkers above all else.

"Are you out there again?"

"... No. Maybe. Yes."

Heather pulled open her door, looking irritated.

"You might as well come in. The floorboards creak and you're driving me nuts."

Dagur stood up, walking in to his sisters room. She went straight back to her bed, basically ignoring him and Dagur hovered, shuffling his booted feet.

"What are you doing?"

She grumbled, turning from the bed.

"Waiting for the dragon to stop moving her tail?"

He was lying.

"Are... You're not sleeping on the floor idiot, that would defeat the point of getting you _off_ the floorboards. Just lie down would you?"

Feeling distinctly out of his depth, Dagur took a few hesitant steps closer, peeling off his chest plate and kicking off his boots before laying on her bed. They lay with their backs to each other, the wooden bedframe surprisingly un-creaky considering the age and dampness of the wood, of the air.

Heather trusted him to sleep in the same room as her. Dagur wasn't sure when that had begun to matter.

He wished those treacherous, awful words weren't whispering in his ear.

 _"You go first."_

There was a tiny flicker of truth in what the now-dead sicko had said. Dagur did notice the lack of women, and there were only so many times he could fuck one of the guys (it was helpful if they looked like Hiccup), or wait to pick up an unscrupulous wench in a tavern.

And Heather was _beautiful._ She was a Berserker after all.

But she was also his sister. Those sorts of thoughts just wouldn't do, would only distract. He pushed therm aside.

Much like Heather did the next morning, literally shoving him off her where it turned out he had grown more protective in his sleep, rolling over to embrace her. It took some convincing for Heather to believe it had been an unconscious act. They agreed to say no more about it.

If she noticed his erection, she said nothing of that either.

Dagur thought nothing of it. He always woke up... stiff.

He put his armour back on, stepped into his boots and left Heather to put her own second layers on in stilted silence.

After that, they always sat together at mealtimes and Dagur slept in her room. They didn't discuss it, didn't even really look at each other. It just... was.

The rest of the time, they were same as ever. Heather was his sister, they stuck together on dragon missions where possible and kept an eye on each other, backed each other against Ryker. They talked about Osvald sometimes, though always very surface details. Heather didn't ask about Dagur murdering him, which meant Dagur never felt compelled to admit he hadn't. That Osvald had just... gone.

It took weeks, weeks of some weird tug in his gut whenever Heather got injured by dragons and the compulsion to stab Ryker whenever he leered at Heather. Weeks of odd bubbles in his chest when he saw her smile at Windshear, and days at a time where Dagur realised he hadn't so much as _thought_ about Hiccup outside of the usual revenge and plotting.

Over those weeks, Dagur came to realise.

He wasn't just watching Heather for her protection.

He was watching her because he liked watching her.

Heather probably noticed, but in true Berserker style pretended nothing was going on. If they confronted it, they would have to talk about it. And with their lives constantly on the line with dragon riders and Ryker and in the future, _Viggo,_ they didn't have time to be awkward around each other because Dagur got an erection sometimes.

There was the issue of dealing with it - he shared Heather's room now, and that meant he couldn't just jerk off when the... _whim_ arose. Dagur had to steal time where he could, in the outhouse and empty cages and even out in the woods sometimes. The idiot Grimborn wasn't as stupid as he looked, and Dagur felt certain he suspected something. Dagur buried it, under bravado and mania and killing dragons when Heather wasn't looking, just to prove to himself not everything he did had to be Heather-approved. Those were the nights she completely ignored him, the nights where Dagur had to wash dragons blood from his hands, where it was dried in the grooves of his armour when he came to sleep beside her, to protect her.

He was kidding himself and he knew it.

Dagur laid awake for hours most nights, watching Heather sleep in absolute silence with their almost completely non-resembling features. Their eyes were the same colour, but that was it really. Heather was tall and slender, like their grandmother. Dagur was shorter (and oh was he ribbed for her greater height) broader, filling out in adulthood like their parents. She had their mothers nose, but since the woman had died almost as soon as Heather was born, that was a hazy memory at best.

They did have another similarity.

Dagur had spotted it in one brief instance where her under-tunic had ridden up as she was getting out of her armour. A birthmark, a perfect crescent moon above her left hip. He had recognised it instantly - Dagur had the exact same one on the opposite hip. Heather didn't know he had seen it, so she didn't know they shared it. How was he to bring that up? Admit he had stolen looks at her changing?

With _that_ axe?

Pass.

After a particularly profitable sale that Hiccup and his lizard riding buddies hadn't ruined, Ryker and the men celebrated with copious amounts of mead and ale and Thor only knew what it was they were smoking. Dagur didn't tend to get drunk, he was manic enough and the world slowing down when he was too drunk to process was unsettling.

But when Heather turned up in her room where Dagur had been hiding from insistent pressure to join in the raucous festivities - they made him eerily homesick for his home island - with a couple of bottles and bladders full of crude, powerful brews, Dagur took one.

"You trying to get me drunk sis?"

"Just trying to get you to relax. If you were any more tightly wound I would be the sister of a bow string."

Dagur took a mouthful of ale, looking around the room in an attempt to work out what was missing.

"Where is your dragon?"

"Sleeping in a cave. None of the men are active and she's been dying for some fresh air. Plus, most of them won't climb that high."

"Oh."

He drank some more, silence falling as the two steadily imbibed a fair bit of ale and more than a little mead. Dagur's head began to spin slightly; he didn't drink much, so he didn't have a great tolerance. At least he wasn't a puker like Savage was... that was gross.

Maniacal laughs occasionally burst from his mouth for no good reason - they weren't talking, he wasn't even thinking about much. Well, much other than how close Heather was and when had she taken off her armour? He swayed on the spot and put the bottles down, barely getting his chest plate off before flopping down onto the bed to try and wait for his vision to straighten out again.

"My god you are a lightweight."

"Hey! I was chief of the Berserkers before I was allowed more than one cup of mead."

Heather rolled her eyes, pushing what he recognised was his water canteen into his hand. Dagur took a hearty swallow of it and waited for it to flush some of the intoxication away. That was how it worked, right?

"How drunk _are_ you?"

"Not too drink. Drunk. I could take on a dragon!"

Dagur gestured violently, serving only to embarrass himself as he pitched himself off the bed. Heather laughed hysterically as he faceplanted the ground, stumbling and slipping before he got on his hands and knees, feeling his tender face to find out if his nose was bleeding. It was sore but his face was dry. Heather was in fits of laughter, clutching her stomach and almost keeling over from her seat on the bed.

There was a feeling in his gut for putting that there. Dagur didn't recognise it. So he ignored it, hauling himself up on to the bed again in an ungainly fashion.

"Alright, not my finest moment."

"You can say that again."

Dagur planted himself firmly on the bed, refusing to move again. Heather moved. He couldn't not notice it, since they were on the same bed.

"Hey Heather?"

"What?"

"Do you hate me sleeping in here?"

She was silent for a while. Well, it felt like a while. Dagur wasn't sure.

"Nah. It gets cold. And nobody creeps into my room. Wish you didn't snore though."

"Hey! I do NOT snore!"

"You really do Dagur."

Dagur glared, or tried to in a somewhat drunken haze.

"You are a horrible, terrible liar."

"I am not!"

She punched him in the arm. Dagur stared at the spot for a second. It was probably wrong that instead of hurting, it was sort of tingling. Huh.

"You are."

His response felt massively delayed. He could blame it on the drink, he mused.

"It's no fun fighting you like this, I'd have more challenge from a baby Gronckle!"

Pride suddenly stirred, Dagur leapt at her.

"Take that back!"

Heather looked up at him oddly, but didn't immediately throw him off even though he suspected her slim frame belied the fact she was quite capable of it.

"Alright, I take it back. A juvenile Gronckle."

Dagur didn't jump to defend himself again; he was trying to work out if he'd had the erection he had now when he jumped on Heather. It would certainly explain her confused look. Gods, Dagur was more deranged than he thought.

"Hey Dagur?"

"What?!"

The sudden outburst surprised even him, but Heather barely blinked. When she first joined up with Dagur, Heather had frequently flinched and recoiled. Now she almost never did, only when truly caught off guard. Which was almost never. She was smart like that.

"Hold still a second."

"Why?" she leant closer and he frowned "is there something on my face? Do I have bread in my beard?"

Heather pressed a finger to his lips, silencing Dagur. When he stopped trying to speak, Heather moved her hand from his face.

Then she kissed him.

Her mouth tasted like sweet honeyed mead and sin, and Dagur took several seconds to react at all. Torn between responding and demanding an explanation, Dagur responded briefly before remembering his arms worked, lifting them to place hands on her shoulders and push Heather off him.

"I knew it."

Dagur blinked.

"Knew what?"

"Knew you felt it too."

 _Too?_

"W-what?"

He was too drunk for this.

Or perhaps not drunk enough.

"You think I don't see you watching me, _brother?_ That I fail to notice just how _close_ you get in the mornings?"

Dagur's sluggish brain - _this_ was why he didn't drink - took a little too long to come up with anything resembling an answer. Heather ran her hand down his tunic-covered chest, hovering just above his belt. A couple more inches and she would definitely know.

Hel, she already knew.

"Well, if you're not interested then-"

"No!"

Her hand had begun to move sideways rather than down and Dagur's reaction was sudden and vehement. A smirk curled over her lips, the Berserker in her shining through so clearly his heart tried to kick clean out of his chest. He barely blinked before Heather was on top of him, slim thighs tight around his muscular ones as she straddled him, leant forward to kiss him again.

Kissing was a strong word for the way she brutalised his mouth, all rough tongue and sharp teeth and nails digging in to the delicate skin protecting the pulse points of his neck. Dagur was drowning in a multitude of feelings, something like drunken wish fulfillment and what might have been a touch of guilt with a hefty dollop of confusion. Too many feelings. He wasn't used to so many of those.

Heather took charge completely, fumbling to hike up the bottom of his tunic and Dagur only remembered to react when she was pulling down his leggings. Her dragon-roughened hand wrapped around his cock, smirking when he yelped and bucked.

"H-Heather!"

"Say it. Say you're _**mine** _Dagur."

Where had all this come from? Heather squeezed at his cock, reminding Dagur he was in a rather vulnerable position.

"Y-yours!"

Her smirk darkened, something really rather feral in her eyes as Dagur watched in shock; she shuffled closer on his thighs, surprise adding itself to the madness inside him as he realised Heather had nothing on beneath her skirt. Before he could blink, Dagur felt her position him and drop herself down his length in one brutally hot slide. Both of them cried out, something like pain across her face as he jerked.

"Gods Dagur, bigger than I expected."

Oh. She was ok then.

Dagur felt much less affected by the ale now, his every sense focused on where Heather had taken his cock inside her. None of the tavern women or even the men came a little bit close to how Heather felt, tight and hot around his erection. Her slim thighs trembled against his own, the sheer rush almost threatening to make Dagur come on the spot. That wouldn't have been too fair on Heather though. He used his broad hands to grab her narrow hips, then scowled.

"Take off your top."

Heather looked surprised, but she tugged up the undershirt she had on, revealing that birth mark on her hip. Feigning surprise, Dagur held out a hand to halt her removing her breast bindings - for now at least.

"I have one of those too."

She watched as he lifted up his own tunic, revealing the matching mark on his own hip. Of course, his was under a huge scar that wrapped around his side from a mishap in Berserker sword training when he was eight. By then he had already sent a four year old Heather floating out to sea. It was a miracle she had survived, and a mistake he hadn't recognised her on sight. Berserker blood... it was unmistakable.

"And there was me thinking we had nothing in common."

"Well..."

Dagur rolled his hips and Heather gasped. He wasn't sure it was a sound of pleasure, but she didn't stop him. Instead, she leant forward to brace her weight on his stomach and lifted herself, biting her lip as she sank back down. Dagur reached for her braided hair and used it to pull her closer still, returning the brutal kiss she had given him earlier now he could think a little clearer. His hand then roamed down and tugged the knot of her bindings, letting them fall away to reveal her breasts to his eyes. His hands didn't take long to explore them either.

"Up, get up."

Heather moved and both groaned with the loss, but Dagur could see she was struggling to ride him while his apparently big cock (he didn't compare his size to others, he knew he was good regardless) stretched her. Unless she was fucking in taverns too, Heather couldn't have gotten fucked in a while.

"Lie down."

She went, skirt the only thing left to break up the line of pale skin as she laid back on her bed. Dagur tugged up his own tunic until it was off, hungry to see what Heather's eyes showed as he revealed his muscled, scarred torso. Cock pulsing and throbbing with need, he pushed open her thighs and hiked up her skirt, burying himself back inside her and Heather arched, shaking as her body thrashed on the bed. His cock practically sighed with relief to feel her heat around him again, her nails sinking into his forearm. His leggings were bunched halfway down his thighs but Dagur didn't care, reaching up to grope roughly at her breast. Heather whined, nipple hardening against his palm so Dagur rubbed it, sensing something like shame or hesitation tinging her pleasured moan.

He pulled back, thrusting back in with the knowledge that every time he pressed back flush to Heather, the crescent moons on their hips would meet. Heather fisted a hand in the thin fur on their bed, pushing her hips down to meet Dagur's thrusts and he hungrily listened to every moan she let out. Each one was a victory, a chink in the armour Heather kept up even to him, her brother.

Not satisfied Heather was breaking fast enough, Dagur pushed her legs up until her knees were bent to her chest and sped up his thrusts, guttural sounds of skin against skin filling the air to intermingle with the increasingly hungry responses Heather gave him. He was generally following the base, animal instincts when he fucked anyway, but something about Heather writhing beneath him had Dagur feeling primal, stripped back to just a raw need for pleasure, to chase the high of climax.

Heather's hand came up to tug at his hair, rough to the point of pain in his scalp that Dagur reveled in. She _bit_ him, sharp teeth sinking down on his lip, his shoulder, his throat. Her nails raked down his back, her deep green eye fixing upon his with a chilling stare that was part lust, part something else entirely that Dagur knew probably wasn't good. He just didn't care enough, his own nails sinking into the pale skin above Heather's skirt, bruising her hip and tearing the otherwise blank canvas of her skin next to the birth mark.

"Say it Heather. Say you're **_mine_**."

She had demanded it of him; he deserved the same from her. She _owed_ him that much.

"In your dreams brother mine."

For someone who was flushed, sweating and keening with the pleasure of said brothers cock stretching her, filling her, Heather was remarkably cool as she challenged him. Dagur decided to let her think she had won for the moment - he knew he needed to work on patience. Heather would be his first test.

She was too hot, too wet and too fucking perfectly responsive for Dagur to hold back, hips beginning to shudder as he crested the wave. Heather exploded beneath him, looking every bit as surprised as Dagur was before her face went slack with pleasure as she spasmed around him. Dagur buried himself deep, spilling inside Heather and knowing she was his whether she said it or not.

"D-Dagur!"

Gods, his name had never sounded so good. On the tongue of a Berserker. _His_ Berserker. _His_ sister. Dagur leant down, sealing his lips on the side of her breast and biting, sucking, not letting up until he was satisfied the bruise left behind would linger. He pulled out, enjoying her small sound of complaint that he was no longer in her and tugged his leggings back up.

Heather was silent, fairly still and hadn't even pulled her skirt back down.

Dagur left her to work through it, rolling on his side and preparing to go to sleep. Heather got up, obviously cleaning herself up and replacing her clothes. Dagur kept his eyes closed in case she was suddenly shy, as most women he'd seen had become immediately after sex. Then she got back on the bed, facing away from him by the quiet sound of her breathing. On impulse more than logic, Dagur rolled over and placed his arm around her, pulling her into his body. She shuddered when he pressed his teeth to the back of her neck, though he didn't bite. Not that time.

"Mine."

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

When Dagur woke after a particularly _fantastic_ nights sleep, Heather hadn't moved. His morning wood was pressed against her hot little ass, Heather amazingly pushing back when he thrust it against her to test her reaction. Dagur didn't waste the chance, fumbling to lift up her skirt, push down her leggings and his fingers delved between her thighs. Her sleep-rough voice formed needy moans as he rubbed her, trying not to rush and gain the opposite effect as he got her hot, wet, ready to take him within her again.

He rolled her on to her front and Heather let him, pinning her with his weight and teasing his cock over her wet hole, wanting Heather to beg for him to fill her before she got what they both wanted. She rested her head against her forearm to allow herself space to breathe, pushing back as best she could on Dagur and growling in frustration when he didn't immediately fuck into her oh-so-willing body.

"Damnit Dagur!"

"You want something little sis?"

Heather growled again, arching her back to try and get more of him.

"If you aren't gonna do it I'm gonna leave."

Her threat did the trick; Dagur aimed his cock and pressed inside her. Heather keened, letting out those sounds that were half-pain, half-pleasure as Dagur stretched her to fit him. Placing a hand between her shoulder blades to ensure she didn't try to leave - if she wanted to **stop,** Heather would let him know - and leant down to bite a bruise into the skin revealed by her looser sleep-tunic.

Even if she didn't say it, Heather would _feel_ it.

Positioned as she was, the sound of his hips slamming into her ass were loud enough to drown out her muffled moans, probably loud enough for others to hear but Dagur didn't care either way. All it would mean is anyone who dared try to touch her again wasn't just after his sister, they were after his _lover._ Double the deathwish really.

"You feel me in you Heather? Feel my blood in your veins?"

Her response was muffled in her arm but Dagur was certain it was a yes, biting into her skin again and feeling a rush as bruises bloomed across the blank porcelain. He sank into the heat of her repeatedly, tasting sweat on her skin, feeling her muscles tremble beneath him over and over again with each deep, punishing thrust of his hips into her. The novelty of it was too much, too much to take so early and Dagur felt the heat coalesce in his groin as his cock swelled and spurted, filling Heather with his come again with a deep, satisfied groan.

He pulled out quicker, rolled her over and pushed his fingers back between her thighs. Heather didn't take much to join him in bliss, quaking as she soaked his fingers with the messy mix of them both leaking out to stain the bed furs.

Dagur hadn't finished basking in the afterglow for two minutes when Heather wrapped herself around him from behind, both hands around his throat just tight enough to let him know it was a serious threat rather than a simple kink.

"You. Don't. Tell. _Anybody._ Do I make myself clear?"

He nodded as best one could with a half-way chokehold, waiting for Heather to let him go. She bit him in return, just below the muscle of his shoulder and it _hurt._ Dagur suspected it was her biting over where her nails had torn at him the night before as she collapsed beneath the weight of exquisite pleasure they both knew they could find only in each other.

 _Blood made it better._

Dagur had only applied that to battle before.

Now it applied to sex.

He was half-expecting Ryker to tell something had changed, even with their unspoken agreement that what happened stayed in their room, their bed. Dagur knew, knew he had left his mark on her inside and out. Heather acted no different, sitting next to him in silence for breakfast before taking off to find her dragon. Dagur stayed behind to plot chaos with Ryker, getting goosies just thinking about all the destruction they would wreak upon people and places and maybe even Dragons Edge.

"So, when do we leave?"

"We don't. Not without Viggo."

Oh. _Oh._ Were they finally going to meet the mysterious Viggo?

"When does he get here?"

"He doesn't. We go to him. Get your sister and her animal. We sail in an hour."

"Chill out Rykie, it's not like she couldn't catch us up anyway."

Dagur waved a dismissive hand, jogging off in the direction Heather had been heading last. Windshear was pretty distinctive, so he was expecting to spot her pretty fast. He _wasn't_ expecting to be tackled, bitten and pinned to the ground.

"Heather?"

"You suck if I can pin you."

Oh, she was in for it.

"That what you think?"

He used his legs to clamp around hers, preventing Heather from wriggling free as he rolled them and pinned her shoulders down. She thrashed and managed to bite his hand, using the momentary distraction to knee him in the groin and take the advantage again. He felt the wind knocked out of him as Heather threw her weight down on him, managing to pin him.

"Give up?"

"Not a chance."

Her eyes darkened, mouth quirking in that smirk Dagur knew in his gut was just for him.

"Concede and I'll make it worth your while."

A dull ache between his thighs where she had gotten her knee in didn't seem to quiet his arousal, and for just a second Dagur didn't care about winning or losing. He cared about that spark in Heather's eyes and what it could lead to.

"I concede."

Thor, Heather was bringing up so many feelings. Feelings Dagur didn't know he could feel, feelings he didn't think were possible.

And that was just since last night.

Heather grinned when Dagur spoke, fumbling to free his cock from his bottoms and wriggling downwards.

"Since I kicked you, only fair I kiss it better.

Dagur was in disbelief, realising Heather was putting her mouth on his cock out in the middle of the woods, where anyone and any _thing_ could happen across them. Her tongue was hot on his shaft, leaving a wet stripe that tingled as she breathed over him. Then her thin lips were sealing over the tip and Dagur had to bite his fist to keep from shouting her name, from declaring that _by the gods Heather was born to suck his cock_ and wanting to brag that he was experiencing it.

Her fingers wormed under his clothes to rub at his birthmark, the one she bore too. He knew she liked that they had something the same, something beyond the fact they were blood. Something visible, something as tangible as her tongue wrapping around his cock as she hollowed her cheeks and _sucked._ Dagur's hips bucked, knees shaking in a way that made him glad he was already horizontal. Heather bobbed her head, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva along his shaft, one she followed with her hand as she stroked and squeezed and dug her thumb into where the base met his sack, some sudden waves of heat coming from that new motion.

"C-close."

Some didn't like to swallow, and even Dagur knew better than to annoy the person with his little Dagur in their mouth. Heather pulled her mouth off, tight-fisted grip still going and she looked straight at his eyes the whole time, determined to watch him at the height of climax. Dagur obliged, eyes falling closed as he spilled over her hand with a cry muffled in his bitten fist.

As if nothing had happened, Heather stood up, wiping her hand clean on a couple of leaves and walked off. Dagur stumbled upright, fixing his clothes and being forced to run after her.

"Wait! I actually came out here to tell you something."

She turned back, eyes full of suspicion.

"What?"

"We're leaving soon. To go and meet _Viggo._ "

That got her attention. Heather's eyes widened, hand automatically twitching to her axe for a second. Good girl, good instincts.

"Oh. How soon?"

"Like, get your dragon cus we're shipping out soon. I'll meet you there sis."

With that, Dagur turned and ran off. Ryker looked annoyed Heather wasn't with him, but she and her dragon caught up with them before they set sail so the big lump had no real cause to complain.

He wasn't allowed to be involved in much, bristling when Viggo dismissed him to be alone with Heather. Ryker snorted and wondered off, probably to throw a tantrum about being bossed around by his little brother. Dagur tried not to think too much about how Heather bossed _him_ around earlier. Or how much he kinda liked it.

"So, whats the job?"

He asked a passing lackey, one who had no idea who was in charge except that it wasn't him.

"Nightmare? Flightbear? I don't know, we just got told to get this glowing algae."

Dagur waved him off with a menacing growl that made him jump; it felt good to scare someone again. Being bossed around by brothers Grimborn was bad for the ego, but good for the revenge plans against Hiccup and the riders. He knew what they were talking about - a Flightmare. Only dragon that lived almost exclusively off of glowing algae... gods, when had he started learning this yak dung? All he cared about on a dragon was how they died, how they bled and how much they could sell for.

Something didn't feel right... and that wasn't just the questionable mutton he had for lunch talking. Or the fact Ryker didn't seem any more concerned than usual that the Dragon Riders were currently trashing the place.

"Rykie... where's Heather? What's Viggo doing to her?"

Ryker huffed.

"Testing her. Or using the flyer to help him catch the Flightmare. Who can tell?"

Dagur paced and wondered if this was what it felt like to actually worry for someone. Mostly he just wanted the possessive knowledge Heather was unharmed. It was good for his ego, but he never really... worried.

It was _hours_ before he saw Heather again. In shackles. Ryker - the bastard had known something was up - had a thick collar around her dragon too.

"Your sister here" he yanked at the chain to Heather's manacles and she almost fell over "has been found as a traitor. Viggo wants to give _you_ the benefit of the doubt though. Family isn't always perfect after all."

Dagur didn't know what the new feeling in his chest was. Betrayal had never felt so sharp. Trying to think on his feet, Dagur refused to show any tension.

"Right. Like you and Lars number two."

Ryker scowled.

"Yes. So... you're going to take her to her new cage. Dragon too. Just to be sure you aren't _both_ traitors, you'll have company."

"Ok. Where's her cage?"

He kept himself relaxed, happy even - like finding out she was a traitor killed any and all emotion for Heather but hatred.

There was a time when Dagur knew that would have been the case.

Ryker pointed up toward one of the caves, one Dagur knew rather well. It was where they left traitors to die, but in cages so they thought they were just waiting for someone to come back. Nobody ever did.

"You got it Rykie. What then?"

"Assuming you all come out unscathed" he leered again, and Dagur had a gut feeling he expected Heather **not** to be before she was locked up "head to the nearest base. First we need to deal with the Riders."

The other guys took Heather's chain, Dagur was handed Windshear. They headed up to the cave, Heather's terrified whimpers occasionally escaping despite her usually stoic facade. She knew she was going to her death.

"Stay here. Don't. Touch. Her. Save it for the cage."

Heather's face went from mildly scared to utterly terrified. Dagur yanked a resisting Windshear off to where the echoes would be lessened. He broke the chains, and leaned in close.

"I can get you both out of here, but you have to wait until I whistle ok?"

Windshear rumbled, but stayed. Dagur went back, finding men plus Heather exactly where he left them.

"How does it feel to know you'll die so close together, but you won't even be able to comfort the beast?"

Heather threw her pride away; she was begging for her life and they both knew it.

"Dagur, we come from a strong and noble line. How could you do this to us, to the Berserkers?"

She babbled on, and Dagur lost his cool for a second.

"Where were all this touchy family feelings when you were **betraying** me? When you were trying to kill me before?"

"I didn't know you were my brother then! And that was because of you! You floated me out to sea, not to mention killing my whole island."

"Hm. I suppose thats fair. Into the cage."

The other soldiers leered at her, scowling when Dagur slammed the door closed and beckoned them to follow him.

"But I thought-"

"Hey, just come with me a minute? Don't make me help the dragon live longer by feeding you to it."

They fell silent, following him. They were so eager to rape Heather they literally walked to their deaths.

Dagur killed the bigger one first; silently stabbing him through the throat so he couldn't scream. The second tried to run, but Dagur threw the dead ones sword and it slammed through his chest. That was the trouble with their dragon-hide vests - the stitching was such a weak point.

Kicking the one nearest for good measure, Dagur went back and yanked a terrified Heather from her cage.

"Dagur, wait-"

"Just move would you?"

She stopped dead when she saw the bodies, realised she was stepping in blood.

"You-"

Dagur raised his sword, watching her recoil, eyes closed. He swung it down.

Her manacles clattered to the floor.

She peered through scrunched up lids, eyes going wide when she saw she was free. Dagur whistled, Windshear trundling around the cavern until she found her rider.

"Go."

He couldn't look at her anymore. Dagur had dared to think he found family in her, had let his guard down enough to drink around her for Thor's sake. And it was all a lie. Even when she fucked him, she was selling them out to the riders.

Dagur was only letting her out because he knew, just for a few minutes, that there was something _real_ there. And for that, Heather could live.

For today.

-HTTYD-

 **Like I said that was probably off canon, but then so was the sex.**

 **I'm not thrilled with this one and how it came out, but I'm far more hopeful the next one will go how I want it to. So... we'll see.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Very large time jump... this takes place when Dagur and Heather have gone back to Berserker Island, and they are still trying to rebuild their relationship. Between RTTE 4 and 5 I guess. I know we aren't sure where Shattermaster is but sue me I left him alive.**

-HTTYD-

"So, shall we go up and see the dragons?"

Heather looked up at him, surprised.

They hadn't talked about it yet.

Now that everything with him proving he wasn't a traitor and stopping being evil and almost getting killed by Viggo... the fact they hadn't addressed the brief tryst they had aboard that ship was starting to weigh on them both. It hadn't happened again either. Dagur wouldn't have minded, but their relationship had vastly changed since his... change.

They were back on Berserker Island and starting to rebuild it. He hadn't introduced Heather as his sister nor his lover; she hadn't either. Dagur simply said she was his equal in command from back on Viggo's ship. Nobody there presently knew anything different.

It could become problematic if the other Riders ever visited. Especially Fishlegs. Dagur wasn't blind, he knew something had to have happened between Heather and the other Gronckle rider. He tried to tell himself he wasn't jealous. The old Dagur would have cut Fishlegs in half for touching what was _his._ Now Dagur realised people couldn't be owned and Heather's happiness was more important than his own. That it would be a far healthier relationship for her to have.

Instead, he had split the baby between old Dagur and new. Fishlegs was alive but he managed to tempt Heather away with the promise of looking for their father. Firstly though... they went _home._

Berserker Island. It was already a vastly different place to the last time he was there. For starters, most of the truly insane ones had come with him as part of the Armada. And most of them were dead, whether at his hand or a dragons fire. It didn't quite transfer over to his 'new' self. They deserved it.

"We don't have to. I'm gonna go meditate somewhere. You do... whatever it is you do."

Dagur sighed, turning to leave Heather there. They found it easier with other people around where nothing could happen, but whenever they found themselves alone Dagur knew the tension between them weighed more than Shattermaster. Thor, he loved his dragon already. He had the best Gronckle in the archipelago. Maybe even the known world. Scratching at his patchy stubble, Dagur took himself off to his current sleeping quarters. That was a bit of a stretch - he was having new chief quarters built with space for Shattermaster so at the moment he was effectively camping in a tent. He'd had worse sleep spaces for certain. And it was quiet enough to meditate in.

"Wait."

He stopped. Turned around. Heather wasn't quite looking at him.

"What?"

"We can go see the dragons."

The stables were up a very, very large hill for the moment. Just until they worked out why the dragons generally went nuts if they came down to ground level. At first he suspected maybe wild dragon root grew around, but if that was the case Shattermaster wouldn't be affected, most Boulder class dragons weren't.

Ok, so maybe he had learnt quite a lot about dragons. And not just their prices and weak spots.

The siblings walked up the hill in total silence and Dagur hated it. At least when he was evil and they hadn't had sex Heather always had something to say. Now, after getting to know each other almost every way there was... there was nothing but silence. It was like they were strangers now more than ever. And without his old self to hold a blade to her throat and demand an explanation, Dagur was stuck waiting or trying to work out what to say to her. Neither were hugely appealing prospects. His residual impatience was still going strong.

His hand 'accidentally' brushed hers, but Heather recoiled almost violently. Almost like she was scared of Dagur. He made a note not to do that again.

Shattermaster was still injured, still hobbling about and groaning sadly whenever he tried to fly, but he still perked up and wagged his big adorable bludgeon of a tail whenever he saw Dagur.

"Hey buddy. Missed you."

Shattermaster wiggled, licking Dagur's face with that big old tongue of his. Sleuther clicked in the corner, fussing jealously.

"I'll get to you, don't worry Mr Triple Stryke."

Sleuther clicked some more, then settled back down as Dagur gave Shattermaster a good fuss. Heather was cooing softly to Windshear, bumping her head against the metallic scales like they couldn't turn her into mincemeat. He stole a few seconds to see her smile, then headed across to Sleuther.

"Hello to you too, jealous little clicker you are."

He gruffed, but his eyes fell closed and head came forward when Dagur rubbed the scales between his big ears. Or ear shaped things. He hadn't investigated them up close to be sure it wasn't more like horns. Either way, Sleuther was one cool looking dragon. He loved the tails. And the dragon had even opted to come live at Berserker Island even though it had been the Edge guys who freed him and trained him. Dagur just got all the benefits.

"Alright. I promise I'm gonna fly you soon, but right now everyone is a little on edge about dragons _living_ here so if you could be real patient with us, I promise it'll be worth it. And Shattermaster, I'm gonna bring you all the rocks you can eat. And then maybe some more after that. You focus on resting my good dragon."

He got another lick across the face, laughing happily as he headed out to hunt for some tasty rocks. No bauxite. That bloated them something terrible. Dagur had never known so many kinds of rock until he started riding a Gronckle. Heather left with him, still silent for much of the time as she strangely opted to walk alongside him through the woods for rocks.

"I tried to pick the person _least_ like you. And you go and turn into him."

Dagur turned around with a hunk of sandstone in his hand, stunned by what she said.

"I... I'm sorry?"

"No you're not. You barely even know what sorry means."

"Ouch. Heather, if you never want to talk about... what happened before, that's ok. But don't make it an attack on me when I'm trying so hard to change."

Heather hesitated, looking uncertain. Then she sighed.

"Ok. You're right. That was unfair."

"Thank you."

He went back to silently gathering rocks, piling them into the sack on his belt since he hadn't brought a basket out. He needed to keep more of them in the stables for occasions just like this.

"Ooooh, granite. That's his favourite."

"No, it's Meatlug's favourite. Shattermaster prefers limestone."

Dagur raised an eyebrow, then realised she was right.

"Good call. I'll take both, so he's not bored."

Heather actually laughed to herself, the sound rather enchanting to his ears.

"What?"

"I just never thought I'd see the day _Dagur the Deranged,_ chief of Berserkers would be worrying if his Gronckle would get bored of rocks."

Dagur shrugged, smiling to himself.

"He got hurt protecting me, o'course I'm gonna keep him full of his favourite rocks."

She shook her head, distracting him with how lithe and agile she was as she sprang up a tree, standing on a branch and not looking even a little queasy about the _view_ of being **really** high up. Dagur remembered almost throwing up the first time he rode a dragon, flying Toothless to save Hiccup. Odin that had been way too fast. Shattermaster was fast for a Gronckle but they were a species that valued accuracy and being able to stay perfectly stationary over the immense speed. Sleuther was pretty fast but he wasn't _Night Fury_ fast.

"What are you doing up there?"

"I like it high. Plus it means I can see pretty much the whole island and make sure nobody is killing each other in the village."

Dagur was dizzy just looking up at her.

He wasn't sure that was totally about the height.

"I'm gonna take these to Shattermaster. Are you staying up here?"

Heather shook her head, vanishing into the canopy before reappearing on the ground with a few leaves in her hair. As she approached, Dagur couldn't stop himself reaching a hand up to pluck them out. Heather looked at him in confusion, somehow seeming smaller despite the fact she was taller than him. He finished the task in silence, observing the way there were a few streaks of reddish brown highlighted by the sun in Heather's hair.

"Leaves."

"Oh. Thanks."

He nodded, turning to head back toward the stables. Heather fell into step next to him, saying nothing but she did reach down and take his hand. Her slim hand fit snugly in his broader one. The difference in their skin tone was clear; Dagur had grown up on Berserker Island with the constant winter sun effect and Heather hadn't. He was naturally darker despite having the reddish hair that often came with pale skin and masses of freckles. Heather was ebony hair and ivory skin, utterly beautiful to a man who had spent years only appreciating a gory beauty in slaughter.

Then Heather had literally dropped into his life trying to kill him, spunky and daring almost to a fault.

He never stood a chance.

And slowly but surely, Dagur learnt what it was to fear for another persons safety. Viggo and Ryker might have covered for each other and backed the others play, but Dagur was certain they would stab each other in the back given half an opportunity to profit from it. He learnt what things like doubt and guilt and protectiveness felt like, and then he was shipwrecked and left alone with his revelations. Heather was the number one motivation all those months in those caves, looking deep inside himself to find someone he didn't know but who he wanted to be. For her.

"Shattermaster! I bring a feast! Kind of. I'll take a big basket with me next time, but here ya go buddy. Good boy."

He tossed a few fish to each of the other dragons, checked surreptitously on Shattermaster's injuries and watched as Heather lovingly fed her dragon sea slugs. Gross. But also kinda sweet. But mostly gross.

"There you go girl. We'll go for a fly before dragon wash tomorrow ok?"

Windshear huffed but rubbed her head gently against Heather's armour, reptilian mouth curving upward in as best a smile it could. Dagur watched, unsure if he was allowed but Heather had offered no clarification for why she held his hand and he was feeling a little off balance.

"We should talk."

"What are we doing right now?"

Dagur felt like an idiot immediately; he wanted to talk to Heather, why was he being stupidly defensive?

Maybe because he was nervous she was going to say what happened was a mistake. Or maybe that she wanted to go back to Fishlegs. Maybe that she couldn't forgive him for floating her out to sea or destroying her whole island and killing her adoptive parents...

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah I do, I just wanted to be sure. Where?"

"My hut. Your tent isn't exactly soundproof and I don't want every villager who passes to hear our conversation."

Dagur did his best not to contemplate why Heather wanted soundproof when they could have just talked quietly. He ought not to get his hopes up. He followed Heather silently down the hill, itching to hold her hand again but he didn't want to see her recoil from him all over again. Heather didn't initiate it, so Dagur forced himself to respect that. Gods, when did _that_ happen? Old Dagur wouldn't have even waited to get back to the hut, he would have thrown Heather against a tree and claimed her mouth, her body as his territory.

Instead, he was following her quietly, waiting for her tune to dance to.

He wondered if Heather would dance with him. She would never have learnt Berserker dances. He could teach her.

"You just gonna stand there all day Dagur?"

Blinking, Dagur realised he was standing vacantly staring in her direction; they were at her hut now.

"Right. Sorry. Thinking."

"Don't strain yourself."

He caught the playful smirk ghosting across her face, feeling a tiny spark of hope that this wouldn't be the worst conversation of his life. Including all the really dull ones after three years in Outcast prison. And listening to Ryker... ever.

Taking the few steps into her hut before the door closed behind them was bizarrely intense. Heather lit the candles in there, casting everything into semi-dim flickering light. He hovered awkwardly until she pushedd him into the chair at her desk, littered with doodles and letters in writing he banked on belonging to Fishlegs, dragon information and the diary he knew belonged to their father. Dagur knew Heather wanted to go back to looking for him. So did he, but right now their island needed them. Well. Needed him. He needed her.

Granted, his chiefdom was an unfair power grab but he was the chief, and he had to live up to that if he was to ever be a man worthy of Heather's attentions.

Apparently his inner voice was Hiccup, Dagur now realised. His conscience was a tiny one legged dragon rider.

"Dagur?"

"Yep?"

"You didn't hear a word I just said did you?"

He gave her a sheepish look and shook his head.

"I was admiring all this dragon info."

"Oh. I guess thats better than ignoring me."

He offered her his best non-murderous smile, trying to keep her at ease around him.

"What were you saying, anyway? You have my full attention now."

Heather's face creased in thought. Had she forgotten already?

"Come here."

She indicated the space on the side of her bed next to where she was currently sat, so Dagur awkwardly ambled across the hut to sit next to her.

"I said... despite having thought about this conversation since you sprung me from that cage, I can't think of a damn thing to say now."

Before Dagur could even think of something to say in response, Heather's hand was on the back of his neck and her mouth was on his. It was everything he had been waiting for, pulling him in immediately as he kissed her back. Heather all but sat on his lap as they pushed together, kissing over and over and his heart thundered in his chest. Slim hands went for the fastening of his armour, pulling off the heavy metal and he vaguely registered the sound of it hitting the floor. Dagur moved slow in case Heather rebuffed him, but instead she let him remove her heavy top layer too.

She looked smaller, almost scared without it. Dagur tried to be reassuring, tried to hold her tight as they kissed but Heather wriggled free, tugging at his tunic and making a frustrated sound when she realised he was sat on it.

"A little help here?"

Dagur regretfully left her lips to tug off his tunic, almost immediately feeling her hands on his skin, firmly squeezing at his muscles as her mouth landed on his again. Her tunic came off much quicker in the seconds they seperated to breathe, breast bindings soon following. Instead of groping at her roughly, Dagur pulled her close with a hand on the small of her back, just enjoying the way she _felt_ against him. Heather wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the two just holding each other for a minute before their lips sought each other, kissing again and again. Her mouth was addictive, insistent and hungry on his own.

They both kicked off their boots, laying back on Heathers bed and she wrapped her long limbs around him as they kissed and touched. Her hands roamed his muscles, soft moans in the back of her throat when Dagur brushed a hand over her bare breast. He squeezed gently, not a harsh grope like before and she responded differently but with no less heat. He didn't want to leave her covered in bruises like last time. They might even get through this without drawing blood.

Heather's hand wormed down the front of his leggings, squeezing and stroking his cock and drawing several probably embarrassing noises from him as he thrust into her grip. Her hand definitely felt better than his own, proving right the many nights alone with his hand and his fantasies of Heather. She gripped the top of the material and pointedly tugged them down. Dagur awkwardly fumbled to remove the leggings fully, realising this was the first time he wa actually naked in front of her. They'd certainly _seen_ each other before, but never fully undressed. Heather got off the bed and Dagur almost complained, then saw she was actually taking off her own. He watched with blatant want as she bared herself, climbing back on top of the furs and their bodies touched, pressing slim curves and broad muscles together.

"Close your eyes."

She looked up at him in something like suspicious confusion, or maybe confused suspicion but Heather eventually let the big green orbs flutter closed. Dagur brushed his finger gently over the delicate bump of her nose, traced the shape of her thin lips and then trailed his hand lower to run circles around her little rosy nipples. Her back arched up into his touch, face going slack as she gasped softly. Dagur watched her hungrily, realising he could enjoy learning all the spots she liked to be touched just as much as he had being touched himself.

When he made it lower down, Dagur traced the birthmark on her hip. That was something only they shared, and he would relish that fact for many years to come. Heather kept her eyes closed, which he appreciated as it allowed the element of surprise when Dagur wriggled down the bed, kissing a line up the inside of her thigh. As he did so, Heather shook lightly and grew wetter. He could taste and smell her arousal on the air, thrilling in the fact he was the one turning her on.

"Gods Dagur..."

Her voice trailed off in breathy moans as Dagur put his tongue on her, tasting her at last and regretting that it took him so long to do so. Heather arched and bucked and tried to ride his mouth, moaning and fisting hands in the furs on her bed as Dagur dragged his tongue over her clit, feeling her grow wetter on his face. Her thighs tightened around his head, clamping almost too tight for him to breathe but Dagur didn't let up - he'd only ever done this to get someone wet enough to fuck so it didn't hurt . He wanted Heather to come on his tongue, to be feeling lax and satisfied before he sought his own pleasure.

That was new.

"C-close Dagur, don't stop!"

His jaw was starting to ache and his tongue hurt but Dagur kept it up, hungry to bring her off and soon enough he was gratified to feel her thighs turn into a vice on his skull, squeezing tight as she shuddered and moaned aloud. He went a little dizzy but Dagur felt it was well worth it, waiting for Heather to let him back up and he couldn't help a laugh escaping him as he watched her shake on the bed, flushed and sweaty and _beautiful._

"What?"

"You uh... I gave you beard rash."

She looked down, seeing the reddened marks along the delicate skin of her inner thighs.

"You-"

"Don't worry, it'll fade. I get it on my arm if I sleep on it."

Heather nodded, watching him through hooded eyes as Dagur tried to wipe his beard clean but it was a near fruitless endeavour. He resorted to picking up his tunic to do the job, then crawled back up the bed to kiss parted lips and swallow down Heather's soft gasps. She responded instantly, hands a little rougher as they roved his body now Heather's arousal had apparently only climbed up after she came on his tongue. Her hips arched up into his, thighs wide and inviting. It was realms away from the rough, barely thought-about clash they had shared before.

Dagur would regret it if it weren't probably the tipping point that brought them here now.

"You sure you want this little sis?"

They hadn't really asked before. He wanted to be certain this time.

"I'm sure Dagur."

Despite the urgent pulse of his cock, Dagur took his time to move in properly, wanting to watch Heather's face properly as he pressed inside her inch by inch. He didn't want her hurting this time. Her hand ran down his chest, wrapped around his waist and hip. Dagur watched them come flush against each other, watched the two crescent moons on two bodies meet before turning his eyes back to her face.

"You ok?"

"Mmm. Will be when you move."

Dagur chuckled as Heather arched and stretched lesiurely, then groaned as she rolled her hips and shifted around him. She was softer, wetter, more receptive than he remembered and it was intoxicating to feel. Dagur's arms shook a little as he shifted his weight, resting on his elbows and forearms before he finally managed to thrust in the midst of almost overwhelming pleasure wiping out much of his brain function. Heather met his thrusts, slow and steady as they appreciated having each other _properly_ this time. It was worth the wait, now they were considerably different people with far less secrets between them.

"Need more... need more of you Dagur."

Her pleading spurred him on and Dagur shifted his weight, moving faster, pushing deeper. Anything to respond to Heather's breathy moans, to make her let out more of them and to feel her clutch tighter at his back and press her face into his neck in an effort for them to be even closer. Dagur was in Valhalla there with her, watching Heahther's head tip back as she sighed his name in breathy exhalations of pleasure, feeling her muscles work around him like she couldn't bear to lose Dagur inside her for even a second.

Dagur could relate, dangerously close to coming with every thrust into Heather's willing, responsive body and her sweet, sinful moans _really_ weren't helping him hold back. He immediately considered growing his hair when Heather buried a hand in it, to give her more to grab hold of as she hauled his mouth back to hers. Her kisses grew more feral, biting at his lip between hot little moans and gasps that seemed to burn themselves into his skin like Heather was leaving her mark on his mouth. As though she knew he could _never_ be as satisfied kissing another as he was kissing her.

"Not gonna last much longer."

"S'ok, me neither."

Her teeth scraped across his collarbone, but when she latched on it was only with her lips, leaving a throbbing bruise as a reminder of this encounter and Dagur trembled, barely able to think of anything but badly he needed to _come_ right then and there. Heather clutched tighter at him, letting out **that** sound he remembered meant she was joining him at the heights of bliss and they tumbled together through the sea of sensations. Her nails sank into his shoulder blade, other hand around the back of his neck and, when she could keep them open, Heather's green eyes burned into his.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"Better."

"Definitely."

Neither seemed capable of speaking properly, instead lazing together on top of the bed in a tangle of sweaty limbs while they basked in the afterglow of a far more intense connection than they had ever shared before. Heather curled into his side, head pillowed on his bicep as she traced nonsensical shapes over his chest with her fingertips.

"I'm not one to kill the mood, but... I kinda need some clarification here Heather."

"You're talking about Fishlegs."

"A little bit" Heather raised an eyebrow "Ok, yes."

She rolled onto her back, still gloriously naked and Dagur was pretty sure he'd never tire of such a sight.

"I _tried._ I really did. I think if it weren't for you, it would have worked out... but he's not you."

"Did you and he..."

Heather knew what he was asking, but she apparently felt like tormenting him.

"Did we what?"

"You know..."

It wasn't his business, Heather was not his property and he knew he couldn't dictate what she did while they were apart. But he still wanted to know.

"Know what?"

He sighed.

"Damnit Heather, did you have sex with him?"

He didn't need an answer when she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Yes. You have to remember how we left things, I never expected that you could really change and while I was playing that part with the hunters, it was different."

Dagur nodded.

"I'm not mad. I just wanted to know."

Heather still looked distinctly uncomfortable with him, even going so far as to pull on her tunic again.

"Theres more."

"And more needs you to get dressed?"

She shrugged, not quite meeting his eyes at all.

"I'm trying not to feel so... vulnerable."

Dagur sat up, starting to feel concerned by her posture, her demeanor.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me. We aren't those people anymore Heather."

Heather still wasn't looking at him, biting her lip and curling up to hug her knees to her chest as she sat back on the bed.

"Alright. I... when we first, you know, I uh, I didn't really want to. I just realised you were looking at me and figured I could make you a little more compliant."

Dagur felt sick as he remembered that first minute, when Heather looked like she was in pain. He was drunk. He could have mistook her revulsion for pain. She'd been struggling. _She hadn't wanted it._

"What? Are you saying that I raped you?"

Dagur had done a lot of things, but even he had his limits.

"N-no! Gods, this was back when I was waiting for the right time to kill you. I didn't want you, but I did. I just didn't want to see it. This is all coming out wrong. I _initiated_ it for all the wrong reasons, but... I wanted it. I figured you could probably tell that much."

He did remember Heather seeming to shift part way through, going from in control to more primal and responsive. And then she'd had him again the next morning, she'd gone down on him in the woods when she really didn't need to make more effort to have Dagur hooked.

"So let me get this right. You realised I wanted you, got me drunk with the intention of making me more... dependant or whatever on you, then realised you liked it? Liked me?"

"Something like that. Still not mad?"

The old Dagur was chanting angrily in a deep corner of his mind, but Dagur shook it off, chased old Dagur away and focused on the girl next to him who looked _scared_ of him. Dagur wasn't that guy any more.

"I'm not mad. So long as this, now, is a completely consensual, you-want-to-be-here thing?"

"It is."

"You promise? I'd rather be alone than be forcing you."

Heather shook her head, wriggling up to him and placing her lips on his cheek.

"I want you. I want to be here."

"Alright then."

Dagur placed his arm around her, hand slowly lifting her tunic so he could rub his fingers over the little crescent on her hip.

"I uh... I would prefer if Hiccup and the others didn't know though."

"I get it. They wouldn't understand. So long as _we_ understand, it's ok."

Her tunic came back off, Heather curling tighter against his side again and he happily held her close. He suspected if they told the Berkian riders, they would probably come around in time but it would definitely put a strain on their friendship. For Dagur, the friendship was new enough that he would probably get over it, if be a little lonely. But Astrid was Heather's best friend, and Fishlegs was crazy about her, and Hiccup was basically family. He would keep the secret for Heather's happiness.

Apparently she was feeling somewhat better, judging by the way her hand slid down his bare torso to wrap around his half-hard cock, kissing him as she stroked him to full mast. He hesitated when she made to climb up on top of him though.

"Are you-"

"I wanna do this for real. I feel like I missed out last time because I was kinda stuck in my own head."

Dagur couldn't really argue with that, and the sight of Heather seating herself on his cock was quite something. The difference was immediately apparent - last time, Heather had felt like a brutal vice on his cock. Now she fit him perfectly, head falling forward as she moaned rather than the pained grimace of before. It probably helped that Dagur was drunk only on _her,_ that he had no alcohol in his system.

"Yep, definitely better."

"I-I agree!"

Great Odin's ghost, Dagur already felt like he might come from the visual alone. Combined with the way she _felt_ on him, and Dagur was perilously close to being a shuddering wreck completely at her mercy. He shuffled backward a little, propping his shoulders up on Heathers pillows to better appreciate the view of Heather slowly fucking herself upon his cock. He put one hand on her hip, the other stroking along her inner thigh and she sighed softly to signal her pleasure. Heather seemed more than content to do the work herself, rolling her hips to slide herself along his shaft with a perfect rhythm that left him groaning, hips bucking to bury his cock inside her soft heat.

Everything about this time was better than before, from how much more relaxed and open Heather was to how Dagur was able to experience feelings beyond surface pleasure. He felt warmth in his chest when she smiled, a different kind of heat than he was used to when he realised _he_ was responsible for the state Heather was in, moaning wantonly and increasing her speed to chase the peak they both wanted. They both had the knowledge this was better with the other than with anybody else.

Her nails scraped down his chest, not breaking skin but leaving fiery lines of sparks in her wake. Dagur dug his nails in to her inner thigh and dragged downwards himself; still not breaking skin but she visibly shuddered as reddened lines appeared where his nails were.

"Thor Dagur, you feel so good."

"You too Heather, gods you're hot."

She smirked, squeezing around him and it somehow stole the air from his lungs, left him gasping for breath as Heather reached down to play with herself. Dagur almost came from that alone, teetering on the edge and barely holding out until Heather made _that_ sound again. He came so hard it almost **hurt** , and Heather was quaking harder than before herself as she spasmed around his cock. The intensity between them was unparalelled - Dagur had had many good nights, none of them multi-orgasmic before Heather. She stayed up on top of him until Dagur softened and slipped out of her, sticky and messy and feeling _awesome._

"Mmm. M'tired."

Dagur chuckled, wrapping arms around her and rolling them so she was back on the bed rather than just him.

"Unfortunately, it's not even dinner yet. So... up and at 'em. If you can walk."

She growled, slapping his chest.

"You just wait until I get my axe."

"That a threat or a promise?"

"Both."

-HTTYD-

 **I am so so tired but hooray chapter two is done! Only one more to go.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Third and final chapter! Dagur and Heather around the Vanaheim times. With possible _minor_ (maybe more than minor) variations on canon.**

 **Heather POV... because I've never done that before.**

 **ALL the spoilers for S5 even though non canon.**

-HTTYD-

"Dagur, you don't get to tell me what to do!"

"I can damn well tell you I don't like it!"

Heather turned away from her brother, hunting through her saddlebag on Windshear's side for their fathers diary. She _knew_ it could lead her to the man, she just had to crack the code.

"I'm gonna find him!"

"I want that too Heather. I do, but you're gonna get yourself killed."

"You worry too much."

Dagur threw his hands up in exasperation, pacing like a caged animal.

"You don't worry enough. And it's not just you anymore."

Her hand automatically went to her stomach; Heather had found out she was pregnant a month ago, which wasn't really surprising when she and Dagur had a lot of sex and Heather hadn't always remembered to drink her tea. It meant many of the Berserkers now assumed she was Dagur's lover, and they hadn't corrected them. Which would make it really awkward if the Berk riders came to visit. Breaking up with Fishlegs hadn't been easy when they last visited. And _lying_ to Astrid? Even harder. She wasn't sure how she would explain the baby; Dagur had such distinctive features it would be hard to hide that if their baby looked anything like him.

Although she supposed since they never met her birth parents, she could have Dagur say they looked just like her mother or father. Although hiding Dagur and the proud daddy thing would be the hardest thing - he was already all over her about it. Especially when she was trying to find Osvald.

"Ever thought maybe I want this baby to have the family neither of us really did?"

"You realise that means telling him that we're more than brother and sister."

Heather sighed, tightening the strap of her satchel and holding the diary to her chest.

"He'll have to understand. I just want to _find_ him Dagur."

Strong arms wrapped around her, scruff rasping across the side of her neck as Dagur held her tight.

"I just want you and our baby safe."

"I know, and when I get too big to fly I'll accept that. But until then, I won't stop looking."

She scanned the diary, then put it back in its own saddlebag. Turning around, she found Dagur watching her.

"Please understand this Dagur."

"I don't. But I know I can't change your mind. Just... promise you'll come back to me."

He held his arms open, and it felt the most natural thing in the world to let Dagur hold her close.

"I promise."

He smiled, squeezing her waist with one hand as she tipped her head down a little so he could kiss her. Dagur was adorably a little shorter than Heather, oddly refreshing to not have to be looked _down_ on so much. He was smiling still when she let go, turning to saddle up on Windshear.

"I'll see you soon."

"You had better."

Heather didn't realise he had swiped the diary until she and Windshear stopped for food and water several hours later. If she knew him - and she _did -_ Dagur would have ditched out with the diary so when she went back to Berserker Island to beat him up for taking it, he wouldn't be there for said beating. She couldn't make it to the Edge - the likely destination he'd head for - before Windshear needed to rest, so she opted to head back to Berserker Island anyway, rest for the night and go to the Edge in the morning.

 _Then_ she would beat the yak shit out of Dagur.

"Come on girl, let's go home."

Home was still a relative term for Heather, but she felt settled on Berserker Island in a way she hadn't come close to since her parents were killed. Windshear rumbled and nudged gently at her belly, purring when Heather stroked her head as they stood there before she went to get ready for bed. She was used to it, but Heather still missed Dagur's heavy arm across her waist, his damp breath on her neck as they slept in the same bed.

What _would_ their father think of their relationship? Heather hadn't even told her best (and really, **only)** friends about the fact she was sleeping with her brother yet, how would she tell their father? Osvald had to know Heather had grown up elsewhere... assuming he even knew she was alive. Dagur had floated her off as barely a toddler, only the name sewn into her blanket to keep her name with her when she was found. But she doubted even his wildest dreams included finding out Heather was carrying Dagur's child.

She unclipped her belt with the distinctive decoration; that and the horn that had them all wondering if she was Hiccup's sister for a hot minute were all Heather had of the man, plus a few vague memories. She wanted to meet him, even if it turned out he couldn't handle the relationship... Heather would know she tried. As the belt hit the ground, the odd decoration fell off. Heather frowned as she tried to replace it, but however it had been attached, it wasn't going back on.

"Great. I'll have to fix that tomorrow."

Stripping out of her armour, Heather crawled beneath the furs that smelled like Dagur and curled up to sleep. She was glad they dealt with the problematic plants that deterred the dragons, as it meant Windshear's breathing was her lullaby that night. It wasn't as good as Dagur, but it was pretty great.

Heather rose at first light, grumbled that Dagur wasn't there for their usual morning fool-around to herself (he was always more handsy in the morning) and then remembered she was going to go kick his ass. They stopped for a quick breakfast, Heather apologised to the Berserkers for the fact they were being left to fend for themselves again but that it shouldn't take long, then she was packing up her saddlebags to get ready for the Edge.

The horn from the docks surprised her, unaware they were expecting any visitors by boat that day. Heather put down the belt fixture she was attempting to stick back on, tying her belt on to stop her clothes falling down. She flew Windshear down to the docks immediately after, recognising Johann immediately.

"Miss Heather!"

"Hey Johann, what's the problem?"

"No, no problem! Come hither miss Heather, I bring news!"

Climbing off her dragon, Heather headed over to the excitable trader.

"Well?"

"I have news of your father!"

"Well! Tell me!"

Anticipation immediately clambered up into Heather's chest, quashing even the constant nausea she ate mounds of ginger to counteract as she waited.

"I know someone who knows someone who says they met someone in a tavern who saw your father alive! _And..._ " he paused for dramatic effect and Heather considered pulling a weapon out "I just so happen to know _which_ tavern."

"Johann you're killing me here!"

He looked a little too happy about that, but then Johann did love a story, the more dramatic the better.

"Very well! I'll meet you at the Northern Markets tomorrow evening."

"That's all you're gonna tell me?"

"That. And the information that I arranged a meeting with said person tomorrow evening."

Ah. At least that was something.

"Alright. I'll meet you there tomorrow."

"Most excellent! I must hasten to trade with your peoples and then take my leave."

"Thanks Johann. I gotta go find Dagur."

"Ah yes, mister Dagur! I do believe I saw his dragon in the sky near Dragons Edge!"

"You sailed from the Edge to here in a day?"

Johann looked a tad sheepish, but nodded.

"I had a favourable wind!"

Heather was dubious, but her excitement about potentially finding her father immediately drowned out many other feelings. Her stomach fluttered; the stomach containing Osvald's grandchild. From both his children. She forced her hands to stay by her side; she didn't want news of her pregnancy getting back to the other riders just yet. Or perhaps ever. She hadn't decided yet.

"Alright. I'll see you there at dusk Johann."

She hopped up on Windshear whilst the Berserkers besieged Johann to trade, taking off for Dragons Edge to beat Dagur up. And maybe drag him to an empty cave and fuck him. The pregnancy was having some serious up and down effects on her sex drive, her sensitivity and her mood as well as the nausea, tiredness and craving copious amounts of Icelandic cod.

At least it didn't stop her flying.

"Let me know if you see Sleuther would you girl? Your eyesight is better than mine."

Windshear huffed happily, flapping her wings with a little more zeal as they continued to cut through the air together. She loved her dragon so much, knew they shared an unbreakable bond after saving each others lives so many times. Heather's baby would be raised with dragons as friends, would be raised by her and the new, unbelievably **different** Dagur.

The babe deserved their grandfather too... the last possible grandparent. They only had two, and Heather and Dagur's miother was dead.

"Ok, this is weird."

She landed at the Edge, finding it completely empty. They never _all_ left, they always left one rider... or the twins. Windshear did a quick flyover the island while Heather checked each of the huts.

Nothing.

"You got nothing too girl? It's ok. It's getting a little late to head out now, we'll lose the light in a couple of hours. Come on, let's get some dinner, take a break and then we'll carry on."

They rose at dawn, finding they were still completely alone. Heather waited until it was properly morning in case anyone was just getting back, but the Edge was utterly people-free.

"We could go to Berk... but then if Hiccup and the others are off on some mad mission Stoick will yell at me by proxy, and I'll get them in trouble... we could go to the Northern Markets now, and kill time until this evening. That seems logical. Unless you have any bright ideas that involve me being able to get some ginger on the way?"

Windshear snorted.

"I didn't think so. Eat and drink up girl, we'll leave when you're done."

They were back in the air half an hour later, heading north for the market island. It wasn't an especially long flight, but Heather had to leave Windshear out of the way if she wanted to go trading - many were still iffy about dragons and others would consider skinning her and selling her. Which would force Heather to skin them, and Dagur would complain he hadn't waited for her.

They _were_ still Berserkers after all. And Heather would definitely kill to defend her dragon. She didn't carry an axe for decoration.

"Ok, you know the drill. Stay out of sight, but try and relax. I'll come get you when I'm done with Johann, ok?"

Her dragon rubbed against Heather gently, butting her head on her hands in the trusting, careful manner that ensured Heather was at no risk.

"I'll be back, but I need to go trade for some spices that include ginger so I don't look suspicious before I start throwing up again. Because thats not pretty. Be good."

Heather headed back to the markets, getting a pouch of individually bagged spices for the trade of a mix of dragon scales. A commodity when so many trappers skinned their dragons, not realising that shed scales were more complete and when used correctly, stronger than dragon hide alone. Life on the Edge allowed Heather to acquire vast amounts of shed scales.

She mixed the ginger in to her water, grimacing at the taste but feeling much better as her nausea abated. She recognised a few of the people at the markets by sight, but didn't dare initiate conversations as she had no clue who knew what and who followed who anymore. When Ryker and Viggo were supposed to be dead, it was so much easier to feel a little safer. Now they knew Viggo was alive, working with that Krogan nutjob and it meant anyone could secretly be working for him. Viggo had a special place in his vitriol for Dagur and Heather as they'd betrayed him and left the fold of the hunters.

Heather considered going to look for Windshear, but reckoned her dragon had probably found a good place to hunt or nap or maybe even sunbathe, and disturbing her on a rare wild day was probably selfish. Instead, she bought a yak steak from one of the food stands and ate it slowly, mentally telling her baby to suck up there was no Icelandic cod in the markets that day.

They were not very understanding, stomach growling still even with a melt-in-the-mouth steak in her system now. Heather tried to ignore the continuing craving, stretching her legs and continuing to stroll around the markets with her hood up, giving the stalls that sold dragon pieces a wide berth and chatting to a little old lady who sold chains and charms about the 'unsavoury looking fellows who stomped around the place'. Heather even punched a guy who tried to rob her, which was really quite satisfying.

 _Finally,_ the sun began to set and Heather began looking for Johann. There was more than one tavern on the island, she didn't know which one and needed him to at least tell her that much.

"Psst!"

Heather turned around, searching for the source of the sound and landing on Johann hiding behind a cart, peering over at her and waving frantically. She hurried over, rolling her eyes as he made her hide behind the same cart.

"Miss Heather! I see you beat me here."

"The Edge was empty. I had to kill time somehow."

"I see. I see."

He didn't seem all that surprised given that he was basically the one who sent her there. Johann _was_ peculiar though, she mused.

"So, where's this guy?"

"Oh yes, of course! This way!"

They crept along trying to stay out of sight, though Heather felt like his occasional outbursts of surprise and knocking over a crate of potatoes actually drew more attention than if they had walked briskly together. Maybe he could just start wearing less lurid clothing. It was hugely identifiable.

"Where are we going? And why are we sneaking?"

"Because some of the folk who travel these parts at night are unsavoury and I wish not to engage with them! Oooh! There, there!"

They hid at the side of a shed, then he waddled in an awkward squat over to the nearest cart by a door that occasionally opened to reveal fire light, raucous yells and the smell of mutton and ale.

"In there Miss Heather."

"You're not coming?"

"Regrettably not. I will meet you out back however! On you go my dear. Oh wait! Where is that wonderful beast of yours?"

"Windshear? She's off camping in the woods, I never bring her here!"

Her heart was beginning to pound; she might be about to find out where her father was.

"Yes, yes. Well. On you go miss Heather."

"Who am I looking for?"

"Oh, you'll know when you see him!"

Johann was excitable again, clapping his hands so exuberantly his beard shook.

"Ok. I'll see you out back."

Heather stood up, keeping her hood up as she entered the tavern. Many paid her no mind, but others eyed her in that way that often happened when females were a scarcity. Particularly young ones. And Heather was aware she wasn't too hard on the eye. Still, she had her axe and daggers in her boots, not to mention she was pretty good in a fight either way. Sparring with Dagur was essentially foreplay, so they did it alot.

Her eyes roamed the tavern, spying the wench taking money for an 'upstairs transaction', the guy trading what she knew was dragon nip but was passed off as something else entirely to humans who didn't know it wore off easy. It was a quick and intense high, but wore off soon after. Or so she was told; Heather had no desire to be out of control of her faculties anywhere other than under or over Dagur in bed. Then there were the loners, getting progressively more drunk before they usually ended up having a fight with someone. A couple of people who were obviously passing through, just stopping for sustenance and somewhere to sleep.

Johann was right - Heather knew when she saw him. A hunter, the distinctive Zippleback vest around his broad body to match the helmet with centre spikes - one of Viggo and Rykers. Or rather Krogans now. He even wore one of the trapper pin brooches, which was uncommon. Meant he was higher up than others. He smirked eerily at Heather, but he didn't _look_ armed and if anyone was waiting for her to sit down, they were being subtle about it. Heather lowered her hood, sat down opposite him.

"Well well well... you came."

"For good reason. I hear you have information on my father."

He nodded, that sly smirk still on his face and her skin crawled.

"That I do. Or at least, I know the man who does."

"Where is he?"

"Right out back. He sent me ahead to check you were the right one. He was concerned it would be your brother, who isn't known for his patience or friendly demeanour."

Heather knew different, but then she knew Dagur in a way not many did. Oh, she knew he'd had sex before, but their relationship was considerably more intimate than that on the basis of their blood bond alone. Going out back wasn't _too_ risky, Johann was meeting her there so at least someone who paid attention would be aware if something went wrong and Heather was just too excited.

She was close, she could feel it.

"Then let's go."

As they stood up, Heather caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Hidden back behind an almost closed door with distinctive burn marks down his face was _Viggo._

Johann had set her up. Whether he knew it was a trap or not remained to be seen. Though she struggled to comprehend the idea of _Trader Johann_ setting her up intentionally. He just wasn't that... sly.

"I'm just so excited to meet my father at last!"

Her 'friend' in the Zippleback vest chuckled, gruff and hollow with no amusement or joy in the sound.

"Yep."

"I can't wait to feel his arms around me!"

"I'm sure he can't either."

Now he was trying to keep her talking, Heather gave him what he wanted.

"I only hope he doesn't jab me with that old hook of his. Know what I mean?"

The hunter faltered, but only for half a second.

"Oh yeah, Osvald really needs to clean that rusty old hook of his."

 _Gotcha._

Heather pulled her axe, pinning the hunter up by his throat with the blade and staring into his slightly panicked eyes.

"My father doesn't have a hook. What are you trying to pull?"

For a second, he acted surprised to be caught out. Then Heather heard action all around her, suddenly surrounded by hunters. The distraction cost her as her axe was knocked from her hands, three or four of them grabbing her, manacles on her wrists before she could fight back.

"Be glad we have orders to get a move on. Girl like you could be a lot of fun to us."

Her stomach roiled, leaving Heather torn between swallowing it down to avoid showing weakness and wanting to throw up on the bastard in front of her. It might win her a solid punch to the head though, and she did **_not_** want to be unconscious here.

"Behave Haggar, we're on a deadline."

"You're no fun. Let's go."

They dragged her off, kicking and protesting but she just wasn't strong enough to break out of iron chains and fight guys who wrestled and killed dragons one on one. Heather was about the size of one of their _arms._

"You'll pay for this."

"I don't think so. Let's go."

They yanked her along, but a familar voice that sent chills down her spine interrupted them.

"Now now Ragnar, let's not forget our manners. My apologies Heather, these brutes have no social skills."

"Viggo! What do you want now?"

"All in good time my dear. Apologies for this, but with your track record I simply have to be sure."

Heather looked at him in confusion, then realised what Viggo was looking at off to the side.

"Windshear!"

Her dragon was up in a cage, flailing desperately to escape, to get to Heather.

"You hurt my dragon and I _swear_ I'll-"

"Relax Heather" Viggo held up his hands, looking like he wanted to calm her "I won't harm a scale on the dragons head. So long as you are as agreeable as I."

"You're too soft Viggo."

Oh _great._ Krogan was there too.

"And yet, my idea got her here did it not?"

Krogan huffed, dark eyes flashing dangerously as he turned on his heel and wondered off.

"Your idea? You got the information to Johann so he would tell me?"

Viggo smirked, the whole effect even creepier with the burns and his damaged eye.

"No no no. I told Johann personally to lure you here. He was such an agreeable traitor. Hm. Trader Johann has a little nicer ring to it, but Traitor Johann is more accurate don't you think? Come on out Johann dear, skulking in the shadows is pointless now."

Heather's heart sank as she realised not one, not two but _three_ psychopaths had conspired to get her alone and vulnerable. She was alone with a dozen men, and they had her chained, her dragon caged and nobody knew where she was.

"Worry not young Heather. Our intentions are not so primal. You and your baby will be fine."

"What nonsense are you spouting now Viggo? There's no baby here."

Krogan had a short fuse. It must be like being back with Ryker for Viggo.

"You notice so _little_ Krogan, your world must be so bland. Her posture is constantly adjusting to try and shield her belly, where normally it would be focused on lines of escape, possibly attack. It's perhaps the only thing more vital to her than her dragon. Our friend Heather here is pregnant."

"Excellent. Now we have added leverage against the Riders. The Ingerman boy is the most likely suspect for the father."

Oh no. Not good.

"Now Heather, we can resolve all of this here and now. Give us what we want, and you can be dropped off in the middle of nowhere with a small but actual chance to save your dragon, or we can summon your friends to rescue you, use them as leverage... you get the idea."

"You haven't _told_ me what you want yet."

"Oh, Good point."

Viggo paced lazily, Johann suddenly cold and hard where he had always been awkward but jovial. She wondered of the power dynamic between the three - Viggo and Krogan back and forthed, but Johann wasn't engaging in the snark at all. When he spoke, his tone was so completely different.

"There is no need to summon the riders. I've taken care of that. We'll acquire the item _and_ have an open shot at the riders."

"What item? You guys are talking a lot and asking for nothing."

Johann held up a piece of parchment, forcing Heather to squint in the limited light of a torch on a nearby wall and not much else.

"Where is it? I know your father stole it, and passed it off to you to keep it hidden."

Cocking her head, Heather finally recognised it as her belt fixture. Ironically, the one Johann had distracted her from reattaching to her belt yesterday.

"Never seen it before."

Johann's face darkened into something unrecognisable, and he violently backhanded her across the face.

"You're a liar!"

Heather spat blood onto the ground, scowling in return.

"Why would I lie? I haven't seen my father since I was a baby! The only thing I had was the horn Stoick gave him when I was born and a blanket with my name on. I think my mother made that though."

Her cheek throbbed something chronic and her lip was split, but Heather wouldn't let them see she was in pain. Who knew Johann had such a mean swing?

"Fine. We'll find a way to break you, but for now we ought to move. Cage her."

Heather was tossed, still restrained, into a tight cage. Windshear roared at her, but Heather quickly shushed her when Krogan jabbed her through the cage bars.

"I'm ok Windshear, just relax for me."

Her dragon whimpered, but then curled up and stayed still. Heather ached to rescue her, for them to be free of this awful situation. The cages were hefted up by Krogan's Titan Singetail, dropped down heavily on a ship that was already on its way somewhere. She couldn't listen out for the sound of dragons nearby with the noisy Singetails roaring, protesting and flying with their odd four wings drowning out all other sounds. Except Viggo who just liked the sound of his own voice, babbling away.

"Again. Where is the item?"

"I don't know, I've never seen anything like that before."

Heather _was_ lying; she had never paid it much mind before, but sketched out in front of her as it was, she realised what the item was.

 _A Dragon Eye Lens._ Osvald had had one, and whatever was on it was important enough that these guys should not be allowed to get hold of it.

Johann banged something against the bars, making her ears ring horribly as the clanging echoed all along the metal.

"If you continue to be difficult, I'll kill your dragon first. Then your child. You aren't showing yet, so you're clearly early enough that a solid blow will do the trick. Or perhaps I can simply use the right herbs. You know me... I can find anything."

Heather swallowed thickly; if she didn't do something Windshear and the baby were at risk. But if she said something now, they would _know_ she'd been lying. Then the threats would change to account for her not telling them where to find it.

"I can't tell you what I don't know!"

"We'll see. Injure the dragon."

"Windshear!"

They didn't hesitate to stick a white-hot brand through the cage, hitting the exact spot on a Razorwhip's scales where they were the thinnest. Windshear roared and thrashed, her toxic tears running down her metallic face.

"I'm so sorry Windshear! Leave her alone!"

"Then tell me what I want to know!"

"I don't know anything! Windshear!"

There was no escape, nowhere to run and Heather could feel tears stream down her face unheeded as she watched her dragon pay for her lies.

"Enough."

Viggo called them off and the branding stopped, letting Windshear catch her breath and Heather tugged at her manacles, wanting nothing more than to tear them all apart for hurting her dragon.

As they approached wherever they were going, a silent signal had Windshear being burnt again. Heather skipped sadness right to anger, shouting and swearing at them but doing her best not to give away that she knew what they wanted.

"How long until the others get here?"

"Assuming their relative speed plus the fact we have one of their own... any minute now unless they were far away."

The majority of them actually walked off, setting up camp and cooking meat on a fire. Heather's belly growled, reminding her she needed to feed herself and her baby but no way would she trust anything they offered her anyway. Johann was the one who stayed around until it was almost dawn, but then he disappeared. Heather was tired and achey, Windshear was moaning weakly in pain and her burns needed treating. Heather had needed to pee for about six hours. She couldn't really feel her legs.

"Krogan! Riders spotted."

She did her best not to visibly react, especially when Krogan leered through her cage bars.

"This isn't the rescue you hoped for. You'll be lucky to get out alive today little girl."

He bared his teeth, then turned and leapt upon his Singetail to meet the riders in the sky. They were outnumbered by Singetails at least two to one, but Heather could see the Night Fury and the Triple Stryke leading the flight.

"Heather! Hey, square hair, what is this about?"

Dagur was loud enough to be heard even from where Heather was on the ground. Krogan responded loudly; she was obviously meant to hear him too.

"Your sister has something we want. She won't give it up even when we threatened her baby."

The shock on everyones faces was palpable, and Heather knew if she survived this they would all have many questions for her. Fishlegs most of all. Actually, all of them.

"We have an inkling about what you're after. But nothing is being discussed until Heather and Windshear are free."

"You're in no position to bargain boy!"

Dagur started laughing, reminiscent of his old, manic laughs that preceded danger to those around him.

"Alrighty then. But if you aren't nice and friendly, we'll drop these into the ocean and you won't even know which is which."

Every single one of the riders pulled out identical black objects. Lenses. Lots of them. They knew they wouldn't attack until they had it.

"You give us Heather and her dragon, we give you every Dragon Eye lens that Hiccup and his band of misfits have. I just want my sister Krogan. And her dragon, obviously. Huh-hah!"

"And if you don't, we drop them all into the ocean right now and you'll never find them all. You might not find the one you're after. And it's clearly important."

Hiccup chimed in, flipping his lens up and down like a coin and doing his best to look bored whilst staring frantically at a caged Heather.

"Let Heather out. Her dragon stays caged."

"Ah-ah-ah! Both or nothing Krogan. Afterwards, you get to chase us anyway!"

She could picture Krogan growling in annoyance - Viggo was doing it too as he let Heather out of the cage, still in chains and barely able to stand. Between the two of them, she and Windshear were not going to win any speed races. It would be amazing if they could fly much at all, but to lose the Singetails they only needed to reach the really thin air.

Despite the exhaustion and pain and fear she was in, Heather was already considering escape potential as she stumbled out on shaky legs like a newly hatched dragon.

"I thought you had never seen anything like the drawing Heather. Your rescue crew certainly seem to."

"I never got around to looking at the Dragon Eye. They just talked about it a lot."

"I see. Feel free to stand by your dragons cage if it makes you feel better."

"Pushing you in the ocean would make me feel _much_ better."

"Still so hostile Heather. Was I not a just captor? You are relatively unharmed are you not?"

"You can't hold a hostage and be just Viggo. Doesn't work that way."

"Semantics. On you go."

While they were talking, it didn't seem the ones on dragons had made much headway. Heather got in as close to Windshear's cage as she could, the gaps _just_ big enough for Heather to squeeze in to. Now if they could just get to grab the cage, they could all be free. Windshear got the idea, flaring her tail spikes and Heather managed to split her manacles on them, finally freeing her wrists to be able to pet her dragon comfortingly.

"We'll get you fixed up, I promise. I'm so sorry they hurt you girl."

Distracted as she was, Heather only realised there was a problem when the cage they were in was hit with a half dozen fireballs, pitching it over to fall into the turbulent ocean below. She just managed to get a deep breath in, then everything was freezing cold on an already sore body. Windshear did her best to free them, but her efforts were fruitless. Instead, she pushed Heather toward the gaps in the bar, telling her to leave without the dragon.

Heather was torn; the baby or Windshear?

It wasn't just her who would die, but she _**couldn't**_ leave her dragon.

Her vision was starting to go blurry and her muscles had stopped responding to her commands. It wouldn't be long now. Heather wrapped her arms around her dragon with the last of her strength.

Then there was light again. Light and air and cheers. Looking up as she spat out water, she saw Sleuther.

Dagur had pulled them out.

"Little help here! He can't lift it fast enough! Hold on Heather, we got you!"

Hiccup used his shields grappling hook to help pull the cages weight with Toothless. Stormfly grabbed the other side of the top and they all jetted upwards, up and up and out of the Singetail's range as they climbed to higher altitudes.

"Ok. West. Defenders is closest and Windshear needs treatment they can provide. If the Hunters come after us there, we'll be ready."

"Wait. Me and Toothless will go draw them off. It's me they'll be mad at when they find out every one of those lenses were a fake."

Heather was shivering too violently to answer, but then Astrid bravely hung off the cage in high air and unlocked it.

"Heather! Gods, you must be freezing. Can Windshear fly?"

"I-I don't know. Th-they h-h-hurt her."

"You'll have to fly with Snotlout. Sorry, but he's the only one with a dragon shaped warmer and if she can't fly we need to lighten the cage."

"O-ok. I w-won't b-be far W-winds-shear."

How they got her on the back of Hookfang she had no idea, but _gods_ it was warm and some of her frozen muscles began to thaw a little. Snotlout didn't even make an inappropriate remark as Heather had to cling to him to stay on the saddle. Windshear and she kept eye contact, the whole time until they made it to Defenders Of The Wing.

"Mala! We need your help!"

"Astrid? What on earth has transpired?"

"Long story. Heather needs somewhere to warm up and dry clothes, her dragon needs treating and we may or may not be hunted down by the hunters any minute so me and Fishlegs are going to go keep watch."

"We are?"

"Yes! You're more useful than the twins and Snotlout will want to protect Mala. Come on, we can argue later."

Astrid was worried about Hiccup; they were betrothed now, it was understandable. Fishlegs seemed to realise that, saddling up on Meatlug and casting a sorrowful look to Heather before they took off.

"Heather, come with me. Throk will see to your dragons treatment, and then we will reunite you both."

"Look, thats my sister there!"

"And the business of women should stay that way. You may see her when she has fresh attire and not before."

They could hardly say Dagur had seen it all before, plenty of times. Mala led her away while Throk kept Dagur at bay and took Windshear to be tended to. Mala and a female soldier in all black took Heather to a hut with a fire burning in it, produced dry tunic and leggings and boots that should fit her and began to help peel off what she had on with no care for her modesty.

"Are you injured?"

"N-no."

"Then these are the work of a lover I presume?"

Heather had bruises on her shoulder, the base of her neck, her hip and even her inner thigh; Dagur had changed, but rough sex didn't stop being fun and sometimes both of them got a little carried away. His back was a mess only a week ago from where her nails had clawed him viciously. Heather shuddered violently as they functionally stripped her, then manouvered her into blissfully _dry_ clothes.

"There we are. Stay by the fire, I'll have some things brought to you to nourish you."

"C-can I use the bathroom?"

"Of course. There's a facility through that door."

Heather nodded and stumbled over on still-shaky legs, but determined to at least do _this_ by herself she managed to relieve her bladder. When she came back through, Dagur was pacing up and down.

"H-hows Windshear?"

"She's doing ok. Throk said her wounds are treatable but she'll be off her wings for a little while."

"C-can I see her?"

Mala shook her head.

"We will re-unite you when you can stand without shaking. Eat. Drink. Rest and regain your strength. Your brother may stay with you if you wish."

"Thank you Mala."

Her voice was already starting to recover, stammers lessening as Heather perched in front of the fire. Dagur sat next to her, holding out food and drink he knew she liked and saying little until the other two left them alone.

"Gods Heather, I was so worried!"

"M'ok. I'll live."

His lips were warm on her chilled cheek, him leaving her mouth alone either because it was split or because of the fact she was eating intermittently. She wasn't sure. As soon as she was fed and watered, Dagur shifted her to sit in his lap so his body heat could cover what the fire didn't.

"I have to tell you something."

"What? Is it that you swiped dads journal? Because I know that."

"It's linked to that" his voice was quiet, soft against her skin from behind her "I took it to Hiccup and he made sense of one of the drawings. We went to this place full of dead dragons, and..."

Heather's heart pulsed oddly. She wasn't sure why she asked.

"Found what?"

"We found him. Found him... not alive."

"Oh."

The pain shot through her like a hot dagger, crippled by the realisation she would _never_ meet her father now. Now she understood why they had left her and Dagur alone so quickly.

"He died a hero, protecting sick dragons from jerk dragons. I raced home to tell you, but you were gone and there was this thing on the side and a note from Johann saying you'd gone to see someone who had seen him alive and we knew that was wrong so we rushed over and followed the scent from the markets. Did they hurt you?"

"Johann clocked me pretty good, but Windshear got it worse."

"Johann was in on it?"

"Mhmm. Trader Johann is _Traitor Johann._ He set the whole thing up really. Though the ploy of dad being alive was apparently Viggo's idea."

Dagur continued to cradle her close, surrounding her with warmth and security and safety. His hand splayed across her belly.

"So they know."

"They know. Not about us, but the baby. Krogan said Fishlegs was his number one suspect. They were going to use it to lure him if Johann hadn't already done it."

Stubble rasped over her skin as Dagur kissed the back of her neck, arms a vice around her for the moment.

"Oh, I have something for you. From dad."

"Huh?"

Dagur shifted, the knuckles of one hand digging in to her back as he fished something out of his chestplate. He handed it to Heather. A rolled up parchment, her name spelled across the outside.

"There was one for each of us. Not sure _this_ is what he meant by saying I should take care of you, but I will Heather, I swear."

"I know Dagur."

Heather unrolled the parchment, choking up with each successive line as their dad apologised for never finding her, for never really knowing her and still spelling out that he loved her and hoped she had grown up happy. By the end, tears were rapidly spilling down to splash on Dagur's forearm. He turned her sideways on his leg, keeping an arm about her waist while the other reached up to wipe her tears.

"I'm sorry it wasn't what you wanted to find, but we have each other and nobody can take that away from us ok?"

They stayed like that for a while, Heather silently crying into his shoulder while Dagur held her tight. When she finally felt strong enough to get up, Heather stood and wiped her face down with a damp bit of fabric.

"I wanna go see Windshear."

"Alright. But lean on me if you have to ok? Or Mala will yell at us and she's a queen. Technically, she outranks this lowly chief here."

A smile almost fought it's way out across her face. Dagur curled his hand around hers as they stood, leaving her sodden clothes to dry by the fire while they left.

"Heather! Are you alright?"

"I'm getting there, but I need to see Windshear is ok now."

"Of course. Laya, take Heather to the medical tent."

"Of course my queen."

The girl bowed, then led them to where Heather saw Windshear with some odd pastes on her burns and a couple of bandages on parts of her scales.

"She will be fine! Whoever did this knew what they were doing but didn't put it all in to play. So in that sense, you were lucky. There should be no permanent damage once we're done treating her."

"Thank you Throk."

Heather immediately knelt down next to her dragon, cuddling and nuzzling her as best she could without disturbing the treatment sites.

"You are gonna stay here and do everything Throk tells you to ok? That way you can get better and then we'll kick dragon hunter butt ok?"

Windshear whinnied, but eventually signalled agreement and flopped down to continue resting.

"Come on you. Back to the fire now you've seen she's alright. You're still a little blue."

Heather glared at her brother, but her fear for the baby inside her led to Heather agreeing to it. She followed Dagur back to her temporary quarters, and he repeated the motion of embracing her tightly, of kissing the back of her neck and it began to bring new meaning to _heat._ Heather wondered if it would count as warming her up.

"Stop it. Anyone could walk in."

"Sorry."

Sure enough, the riders came by to check on her. They didn't comment on Dagur holding her; hopefully that was down to them thinking she needed the warmth.

"How are you feeling Heather?"

"If you still need warming up I'm available."

"Snotlout!"

"What? Better me than her brother. I can warm her up in all _kinds_ of ways."

Astrid punched Snotlout, which amused everyone else greatly.

"Where's Hiccup?"

"Not back yet. But since he was drawing them away, that's probably a good thing. Means they got pretty far away."

Heather knew what was coming from the way Astrid and Fishlegs both looked her over.

"So... the hunters mentioned a baby. Something you want to tell us Heather?"

"Not really."

It came out a little harshly, and she absolutely deserved their unhappy looks.

"Oh."

"Look, it's true. But... it's complicated. He's not around. I don't wanna talk about it."

Dagur would just have to deal with the lie; he couldn't claim fatherhood right now.

"Alright. You coulda told us though."

"I wasn't ready. I knew you'd fuss and panic and tell me not to go looking for my dad."

"Well, you're not wrong. Still..."

Heather shook her head, standing up to stretch her stiff limbs and felt all eyes fall to her still-flat stomach.

"Look. This is why I didn't tell you. It's my... condition. My problem. Can we leave it at that?"

Astrid frowned; Fishlegs looked devastated and the twins mostly looked confused. Snotlout was still waggling his eyebrows at her. Apparently even carrying another mans baby didn't put him off. Where was Mala when she needed her to distract him?

"So... when's dinner? Anyone know?"

Dagur interjected, thankfully distracting most of the riders with thoughts of their hunger.

"Oh, yeah! Mala said soon. You coming out Heather?"

"That depends on if you're all gonna keep staring at me. Puts a girl off her food yanno."

"Fair enough. Come on."

Heather stepped through the door, hissing at the sudden cold outside of her fire-lit hut. Dagur was close behind, keeping guard of her.

"Is it too cold?"

"M' fine. Just a shock. Let's go. I need to eat."

Mala thankfully engaged the others, let Heather and Dagur sit and eat in peace. The riders must know her father was dead... surely they could have waited to ambush her about the baby?

Warm sagefruit wine coiled into her belly, helping Heather feel soft and sleepy inside.

"You may keep the quarters currently being used by you Miss Heather. Rest. Recover your strength."

"Thank you Mala."

Hiccup made it back just after nightfall, told Heather he was glad she was safe and was sorry for his loss. His eyes were full of the same questions the others had, but he seemed content to leave her be for the moment. Heather appreciated that massively. Dagur came with her while she checked on Windshear, smiling as Sleuther curled up next to the Razorwhip with a protective rattle.

"Now, he's a good dragon but... don't sneak up on him. And don't grab his tails. Even _I_ don't get away with that much. Be good buddy."

Dagur rubbed his Triple Stryke's head, then stood up and Heather knew he meant to come back with her. She needed it as much as he; needed the connection to _family._ They bade the others goodnight, and Dagur vocally insisted on sleeping on the floor of Heather's hut, to keep her safe in case they were attacked in the night.

They both knew Dagur had no intentions of staying on the floor.

Her huts door had barely swung closed before Dagur was kissing her needily, arms a tight vice around her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't have brought better news."

"It's not your fault Dagur. Like you said, he died a hero."

Heather knew many who had met Dagur the Deranged would never have seen him as capable of the things he was doing now; comforting her, holding her, kissing her gently as he guided her to lay back on the bed. They undressed each other slowly, his skin the heat hers needed to feel _alive_ again, to chase away the residual chill of a long cold night followed by a dunk in the ocean.

"Don't ever scare me like that again."

"I'll try."

He kissed her again, hand splaying over her belly and she knew he was as concerned as she that the bad night could have put their child at risk. Still, the baby was a Berserker, and Berserkers were tough, sturdy, could handle anything. Dagur let his hand fall down, fingertips trailing lines along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, making Heather tremble slightly beneath him. He coaxed arousal from her slowly, ensuring Heather was wet enough to take him without pain as he murmured that she'd been through enough, there would be no rush tonight.

Heather let her hands roam his body, reacquainting with the muscles and scars and tattoos as though it had been days, weeks, _months_ rather than only a day or so. She was familiar with every inch of it, the dips between his firm muscles and the roughness of his scars, where each one was and the stories behind most - all the ones he could remember anyway. Heather could trace the shapes of his tattoos with her eyes closed. Dagur kissed each of the bruises he had left on her before, as though he could heal all that troubled her or hurt her that way.

When he finally began to press inside her, surrounding her and filling her with heat and safe and _family,_ Heather could scarcely breathe. Dagur guided her legs up around his stocky hips, mouth hot on her own to swallow her moans, to keep their secret.

"We'll always have each other, I swear."

"I know."

They held each other tight, Dagur's hand on her waist and hers on his chest. He held her gaze, their shared eye colour illuminated by the firelight as he thrust, as she bucked to meet him and pleasure, intimacy, _connection_ buzzed through them both. Heather could feel her body tremble, could feel her response to Dagur inside her and knew with so many so close, they shouldn't be risking it. Instead, they were pressing closer, holding tighter and Dagur was thrusting deeper, burrying himself within her in the place that only truly belonged to him.

"I love you Heather."

Dagur breathed the words against her ear; words that had never been said despite the fact it was clear.

"I love you too Dagur."

The response fell from her lips without hesitation, his own covering hers as they kissed again, as he lifted her slightly to shift the angle his cock pressed in to. She jerked, gasping against his mouth as Dagur cradled her, as Heather clung tighter to him, needing an anchor against the ever-shifting emotions running rampant through her mind. His breath condensed on her throat as he panted, but Heather reached for his hair, pulled him back to her mouth to swallow the moans that threatened to escape from her as the pleasure finally coalesced, tipping her over the edge.

Dagur found his release in her shortly after, messy and hot as her brother spilled into her. In the way only he ever had. She'd always made Fishlegs pull out, knowing deep in her gut that it wasn't what she wanted, _who_ she wanted. Dagur filled her in every way he shouldn't and she loved it so.

Breathing ragged and heavy, Dagur wrapped himself around her and kissed her shoulder. Heather hummed, burrowing into the embrace despite the fact they were both sticky, sweaty. Her mouth sought his again, kissing deeply, lazily.

"I'll always take care of you. I swear."

-HTTYD-

 **Oh look I finally finished something! Hoorah for completed if slightly ambigously-ended threeshots!**


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